FOUR FOREVER FOUR BROTHERS AGAIN
by Sawyer's girl9
Summary: The Mercers were heartbroken for Evelyn and Jack. But Bobby wonders that, quite possibly, the youngest brother is once again with them... Beautiful film, hope i can make it as good! please review.
1. Chapter 1 and 2

Four Brothers

SPOILER

Well, as a dedicated fan to Garrett Hedlund/ Murtagh/ Jack Mercer etc, this is my version of a tribute for Jack Mercer. He didn't die- he's alive!

Chapter 1

Bobby Mercer turned over in his sleep, grunting. "Bobby…" a male voice whispered in his ear, the smell of cigarettes filling his nose. He opened his eyes sleepily, glancing around for Jerry or Angel.

"Damn guys, I'm trying to fucking sleep!" he growled, throwing a pillow at the door.

"Bobby, Bobby. It's me."

His eyes widened. "Cracker Jack?"

"Bobby, I told you, man, don't say that! I don't do that shit no more!"

Bobby was fully awake now. He looked around the dark room, his eyes falling on the wall. A picture of Jack, the youngest Mercer, hung there, his hair spiked up to rock perfection, blue eyes staring back. Just a picture, another memory.

"Oh Jack." he sighed, remembering his younger brother's funeral just weeks ago.

"Hey, Bobby, you going sentimental?"

Bobby shook the voice out of his head. "You're not real, man. You're dead."

"Do I look dead to you? Hey, Bobby! Look at me!" Jack shouted, and reluctantly, Bobby turned to Jack's old red chair in the corner. Jack himself sat there, his hair spiked up just like in the photo, his carefully muscled face setting off chiselled features. He wore a red t-shirt with the slogan 'rock my world' on it in white letters, a well-worn black leather jacket with studs on it, black skinny jeans and red Converse sneakers. A bottle of beer in his hand, a packet of cigarettes sticking out of his jeans. He lay back in the chair sideways, his feet up on the armrests. He grinned at Bobby.

"Jack? Jack!" he breathed, scrambling out of bed to embrace his dead brother. Jack laughed characteristically, clasping him in a hug. Bobby laughed joyfully, feeling not thin air but the hard body of a long lost friend and brother.

"We can be four brothers again, Bobby." Jack murmured.

Chapter 2

"Bobby! What're you doing?" Angel asked from far away. Bobby opened his eyes, blinking. He was surprised to find them wet.

Angel was in the doorway to his room, staring at him hard. He realised he was lying on Jack's chair and got up, wiping the tears away.

"Bobby, you okay?" Jerry called, running over to help. Bobby shoved him away.

"Get off me. I'm al' right. What the fuck are you doing in my room, anyways?"

Jerry lowered his head, looking at Angel for support. Angel sighed and stepped forward, his head cocked to one side.

"What happened last night, Bobby?"

"What- You hear something, Angel? 'Cos if you keeping something from me, I wanna hear it."

Jerry shook his head. "Look man, we jus' heard you talkin' to someone last night. It sounded like- like Jackie."

A very pregnant pause followed. Bobby remembered, remembered Jack talking to him.

"He was here! I swear! He sat on that chair, and he talked to me. Said that the four brothers were back again."

His other brothers shared a glance.

"Bobby, Jack's dead."

"Yeah, I know that. He hugged me. How you explain that?"

"Maybe we should get a doctor." Jerry muttered nervously.

Bobby threw back his head in anguish. He grabbed his jacket, gave them both a dirty look then left the room, slamming the door behind him. Jack's photo fell off the wall and smashed, shattering glass over the floor.


	2. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Bobby… BOBBY!" Jack called.

Bobby pulled the covers over his head. "No, you little fairy, you're dead. Leave me alone!"

A strong tug tore off the sheets, leaving Bobby staring at his younger brother in utter shock.

Jack was wearing casual punk attire, although it was past midnight. Bobby rubbed his tired eyes. "Jack, this isn't real."

Jack smirked, and folded his arms. "I didn't want Angel or Jeremiah to know yet. That's why they didn't see me."

"Then why me?"

"Bobby, you're my oldest brother. You've always looked after me. You were my favourite- why shouldn't I show myself to you?"

Bobby blinked, trying to take this in. "But I've never- Jack, we watched you die. You were badly shot up. You died in my arms!"

Jack grinned. "Ah, and you called me a fairy on my deathbed? Yeah, I heard you. But I'm not dead. Somehow, I'm waking up in a private hospital with bullets everywhere."

Bobby got to his feet, his brow furrowed. "You _died_. We buried you. By mom's grave, too."

"Really? Wow, didn't know that!" Jack mused, pulling out a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. He lit one, and Bobby turned away.

"This is fucking nuts. You aren't alive. I'm going back to sleep."

Jack clutched his brother's arm. It felt like a real muscular arm, not imaginary or fanciful. Bobby looked up into Jack's green eyes, and saw the soul behind them. He was real.

"Jack!" Bobby breathed. Before he could do anything but stare in awe, the door burst open, revealing Angel.

"Hey, Bobby, you smoking-" he stopped, seeing Bobby, and Jack. The well-built guy tensed, suspecting something, _anything_. He balled his hands into fists, his jaw rigid, and got into a boxer's stance.

"Move, Bobby. Let me lay my fist into this joker."

"Angel-"

"MOVE!"

Jack stepped forward, a cocky smile on his face. "Long time no see, Angel."

Enraged that someone could possibly try to mimic the deceased Jack Mercer, Angel punched him in the jaw. Jack fell away, then rose, rubbing the bruise. Angel gaped.

"You can't be."

"I'm back, Angel. Jack Mercer is back."


	3. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jeremiah sat in his car, waving his two little girls off to school. He watched them skip inside, then started the car, ready to drive off to work. He checked the mirror, and screeched to a halt. The figure of Jack Mercer just flitted from the rear of the Chrysler, fleetingly realistic. Rubbing his eyes, he shook off the grief and tried to pull away from the curb.

Someone rapped on the window. He sighed. Probably their teacher, asking for funds or whatnot. He winded it down.

"Hey there Jerry. You don't happen to have a light, do you?" a voice asked. Jerry blinked into the sunny pavement.

"Sorry, no." he answered, and began to leave.

"Aw, Jerry, not even for your little brother?"

"Angel?" Jerry asked. "Is that you?"

"Jerry, come on. Don't you recognise me?"

Jerry peered into the light. Jack's spiky blond hair and muscled jawbone was visible. He got out of the car. Jack stood there, an unlit cigarette in his hand. Jeremiah stared at him in awe. He blinked. No, it wasn't just a trick of the light. Perhaps a ghost? In daylight?

"Oh my God. Jack! What-?"

Jack grinned. "Don't look so surprised. You got a light or not? And I'll get a lift with you too, thanks."

Jerry whipped the cigarette out of his hand quickly. "You know I don't like you smoking, in the car either."

"Ah, there's my brother!" Jack smiled, embracing his brother. Jerry broke away finally, wanting to hold on forever, sure that this wasn't real and would all disappear when he let go. Sure enough, Jack's dark hoodie

stunk of alcohol and smoke.

"Jack, you need a bath." They laughed. Jerry shook his head. "How is this possible? I mean, I know I was the only one to turn away when you died, but I'm sure you were dead. Bobby was an emotional wreck for weeks, punching any guy near him. He murdered Victor Sweet on your behalf, by the way."

"That geezer? Good. One less ball of slime around Detroit."

Jerry shifted uncomfortably. "Cost me a lot, too."

Jack frowned. "What d'you mean?"

He hesitated. "Nothing. You're safe, that's all that matters."

"Okay, well, seeing as your feeling generous, drop me off home."

Jerry grinned. "Ok. Get in, Jack."

They drove along in silence, Jack humming one of his old band songs. The car stopped at the old Mercer house, redone up to perfection, through the remaining Mercer brothers' handiwork. Jack stared over to the mound where he'd almost died. Wreaths littered the spot, the rotting flowers wilting into the gutter. Little letters lay crumpled around them, the ink blurry. A lone guitar pick, and his black-and-white scarf were the most saddening- little bits of Jack Mercer, lying on the sidewalk. Jack screwed up his eyes so he wouldn't cry.

"Jack, are you alright? You haven't seen it yet, have you? It was Bobby's idea, like a memorial."

Jack found it hard to swallow. "Why?"

"Jack Mercer! You're Detroit's rock god! You have more friends than you know, plus all your lady admirers."

Jack blushed. "My fans- they really missed me that much?"

"Of course. Come on in, Jack, the boy's will want to know you're alive."

"Um, Jerry? They already know."

"What? Why am I the last one to know?"

"You're the last one to see me before I died, I guess. Although I'm not dead. Bobby risked his life to get to me first, then Angel, then you. Sorry."

Jerry shrugged. "I just couldn't see you die. Go in, I have to get to work."

"Work?"

"Construction, mainly. Go!"

Jerry got back in his car, waved and left. Jack didn't go straight into the house. He stood for a while by his own memorial. He cleaned up the flowers, tidied the letters and fingered the guitar pick and scarf longingly. Shoving them in his pocket, he cleared his throat and entered the Mercer home.


	4. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Whoo! Jackie!" Bobby laughed, watching Jack get out of the shower into the pink-and-purple bath robe outlined with pink fluff. Jack smiled, his bare chest visible through the robe. He was healthy and fit, except from bullet scars stretching across his abs. For a dead guy, he was in good shape. Bobby whistled.

"You checkin' me out, Bobby?" Jack smirked, and stepped into his old room. Bobby looked surprised.

"Ooh, Jack, so sexy! I think I'll leave that to your boyfriend."

Jack grinned, throwing away the towel to pull on a tight shirt and boxers. "You know it ain't like that, man. Already told you! Jack likes boobs! Jack likes fans!"

Bobby nodded. "So that hot guy at your funeral didn't fuck you?" Jack whacked him with the bath robe. "Just messin'. Love you, man, you know that!" Bobby grabbed his head to muss up his hair. Jack pulled away laughing. He threw on some jeans, and styled his hair.

"Where you off too, Cracker Jack?"

"To give my fans a performance of a lifetime!"

Bobby frowned. "You can't do that, Jack, you're supposed to be dead."

"But I'm alive- why shouldn't they know?"

"Because whoever saved your life had a motive. Gotta think smart, Jack. And somehow I don't think it was just a generous act."

Jack shook his head, grabbed his guitar and went to leave. Bobby stopped him. "Jack! Don't do this! I can't have you die again."

Jack just carried on and left the house. "JACK! Come back!" Bobby yelled at him.

Angel came out with Sofi. She was giggling and he had his arm around her. "What's goin' on?" Angel asked, looking out at Jack as he walked off out of sight.

"He's gonna die. I just know it." Bobby said grimly, tears in his normally hard brown eyes.

"Sofi, go get your jacket. Bobby, he won't, we'll get him back. Why do you think he's gonna die anyway?"

"Isn't it weird? We go against Sweet, Jack ends up dead. But now Victor Sweet's dead, Jack's alive. Something's goin' on."

Angel grabbed his two pistols and a shotgun. Bobby got his idea and fished in the trunk of his car for his trusty gas tank. A lone crowbar sat in the back- Jack's only weapon. Bobby hesitated before shoving it into his leather jacket. Angel hopped into the passenger seat, kissing Sofi goodbye.

"Bobby, you bring him back in one piece, or so help me, I'll-"

"Don't worry, La Vida Loca, I'll bring him back." Bobby shouted, stepping into the car and starting it. They drove toward the QuarterBase, which was Jackie's favourite rock-out spot. Already there was a crowd spilling through the modern doors. Jack was no where to be seen.

"We gonna wing it?"

"We always wing it, Angel. Give me the gun." Angel handed it over, then glanced at his cell.

"Think we should call Jerry? It's late though, almost twelve."

"No, he'll be with his wife and kids. We'll be ok."

"Yeah." They waited, unsure, staring at the music joint. Everyone had gone inside, and heavy rock tunes wafted out of the doors. Bobby got up, locked the car, and strolled over, Angel running after him. He walked in confidently, at the back of a moshing crowd. Pushing past roughly, he climbed onto the stage, stopping some band called DriveShaft.

"This'll just take a minute of your time- has anyone seen Jack Mercer? My little brother, might be playing here tonight?" he asked into the microphone.

The crowd booed loudly at him, throwing bottles and other junk. One guy stepped away from the crowd, flipping out a cell phone. He was so swift, Angel might have missed him but he quickly followed.

"Get off the stage!" they yelled, and a short guy with a bass guitar pushed Bobby away from the microphone. "What d'you think you're doing?" he asked with a London accent.

"Don't push me, I'm just looking for my brother."

"Liam! Call security and get him out of here!" he called to his taller brother, who looked sweaty and was holding a little bag of white powder to his nose. "Liam!"

Bobby Mercer smirked and glanced over the angry crowd to Angel. He'd gone. Bobby groaned and stepped off the stage, heading for the doors. Several people shouted insults at him but he ignored them. Back outside, he saw Angel holding a skinny teenager by the front of his jacket.

"Who's this?"

"Looked suspicious. Was gonna call someone when you said Jackie's name."

Bobby looked at the spotty kid with wavy brown hair. "What's your name?"

He bit his lip. "Ian."

"Well, Ian, who you gonna call?"

Ian laughed and replied "Ghostbusters, man."

Angel punched him. Ian resurfaced with a bloody nose.

"Who were you goin' to call?" Bobby asked coolly, his brow furrowing.

Ian lowered his head and mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that?"

"My uncle, dude."

"Why?"

"Don't ask me! He don't tell me nothing, just asks me to look out for this guy called Jack Mercer. Earlier, I saw him but I wanted to stay at the venue, so when you said his name I decided to call, okay? Let me go!"

Angel tightened his grip harder. "Who's your uncle?"

"He's called Barry Dasta. Barry Senior."

"Owns a few auto shops in Detroit? Yeah, I know him. He used to know Victor Sweet, didn't he?"

Ian gulped. "Actually, Victor's dead-"

"Yeah, I know. I killed him. So they were close?"

"Actually, Victor was my uncle's son."

Angel and Bobby stared. "No kidding."

Ian shook his head.

"So, why is his last name 'Sweet'?"

Ian giggled. "That wasn't _really_ their last name. It's a joke. Sweet was the opposite to the work they did. Quite fitting."

"No shit."

Angel let go of the kid, who ran off quickly, sitting on the hood of the car with Bobby. He could see his brother was deep in thought.

"What now, Bobby?"


End file.
